Who Wrote The Poem Alone With You In The Ether?

"Stop," he said huskily. "Turn around." Something in his voice made her obey. His was a voice used to commanding, used to getting him his own way. Usually she hated being spoken to that way, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted to obey every command he gave to bring the evening to its logical, inevitable and very satisfying conclusion. She turned, slowly, giving him full view of her butt and the cotton thong slicing her cheeks in half. Aware of his black eyes on her, she did something she'd never done for any man. She swayed to a rhythm in her head. With her back facing him, Abbey ran her hands down her waist, round her gyrating hips and placed one on each cheek. She let them explore across her skin, enjoying the way she felt and knowing he wanted to do the same. She glanced over her shoulder, cheekily giving him a view of her breasts and behind at the same time. His face was distorted with desire as he stood, mesmerized. She turned to face him fully. "I want you," he whispered. ………………………………………………. A cheating husband. A hidden camera. A desperate woman in too little clothing. Abbey thinks she’s prepared to seduce Damien Vane for a paycheck—until his hands, his voice, and his body turn the assignment into something wickedly irresistible. One night was supposed to fix her life… not set it on fire.

“Ma’am, there’s no marriage record between you and Mr. Mark Henderson in the system.” My fingers tightened around the pregnancy report as my legs nearly gave out beneath me. Five years ago, Mark was recruited by a top law firm abroad with a high-paying offer. Without hesitation, I followed him across the ocean. He had told me, “Once I’m settled, I’ll take care of your status.” However, five years had passed, and my lawful permanent residence was still “in process.” Meanwhile, his assistant, Tonya Irving, who followed him abroad, had secured hers under his sponsorship. Back then, I made a scene, insisting on a divorce so I could return home. For the first time, the ever-composed Mark, an attorney, lost his calm. He grabbed my hand and said, “Tonya’s all alone out here, and it hasn’t been easy for her. Helping her is just the right thing to do. You’re my wife. Your status is only a matter of time. My work is sensitive right now, and I need to avoid any complications. You understand, don’t you?” But I had understood him for five whole years. My phone suddenly rang. Mark’s voice came through, light with laughter. “Tonya’s permanent residence was approved today. We’re celebrating tonight. I need you to get home early and cook up a feast.” I stared at the marriage license in my hand—now nothing more than a worthless piece of paper. A cold chill spread down my spine. As it turned out, I was never his legal wife. I had no legal status and no protection, much less rights secured for the child I was carrying. After hanging up, I scheduled an abortion and booked the earliest flight home. This time, I wouldn’t look back.

After I was reborn, I was the one who changed the name on my blood bond with Prince Mortlock. I wrote in “Isabella”—the other vampire he’d always cherished, always protected. When Isabella wanted the ruby necklace, the one that marked the Prince's Mate, I let her have it. The wedding dress Mortlock had prepared for me? I gave that to Isabella, too. I did it all because in my past life, I got my wish. I became Mortlock’s mate, but I lived every moment in Isabella’s shadow. In the end, during a battle with vampire hunters, Mortlock ran to a wounded Isabella first. I was the one left to take a silver stake through the heart. So this time, I decided to let them be. To stay far away from Mortlock. But this time, the cold, distant Prince wept and begged me to be his mate again.

I live alone. At eleven o'clock on a rainy night, an unexpected call came through. The voice on the other end said my car window was left open and urged me to go downstairs. Cautious as a woman should be, I didn't act rashly. Instead, I called the property security office, only to discover that even the security was fake. It hit me suddenly—I was ensnared in a vast conspiracy. Someone was orchestrating all of this. But for what purpose?

Ashlynn Deters is a broken girl. Her home life was nonexistent when she was growing up. So when she was old enough she packed her bags and moved to New York. She's living there for five years and is working at a strip club, Divine. She's working her usual shift one night before she's kidnapped by a group of mysterious men. Gage Cutler is the leader of the New York Mafia. A woman has wronged his family and he'll stop at nothing to get his revenge. Yet, his ruthless behavior changes when his men kidnap the wrong girl.

The doctor said I only had three days left to live. Acute liver failure. My only hope was an experimental clinical trial. It was extremely risky, but had the faintest sliver of a chance to survive. But my husband, David, gave the last available spot... to my adopted sister, Emma, also my daughter’s godmother. Her condition was still in its early stages. He said it was the "right decision," because she “deserved to live more.” I signed the papers to forgo treatment and took the high-dose painkillers prescribed by the doctor. The cost? My organs would shut down, and I would die. When I handed over the jewelry company I’d poured my heart into, along with all my designs, to Emma, my parents praised me, saying, “Now that’s what a good big sister should do.” When I agreed to divorce David so he could marry Emma, he said, “You’ve finally learned to be understanding.” When I told my daughter to call Emma ‘Mom,’ she clapped her hands and said, “Emma is such a gentle and kind mother!” When I gave all my assets to Emma, everyone in the family thought it was only natural. No one noticed anything was wrong with me. I’m just curious. Will they still be able to smile when they find out I'm dead?